


When Simon Snow Has His Bad Days

by Toixx_nimpark



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, PTSD, Post-Canon, depressive episodes, penny and simon live together, penny still can't believe that her best friend and his enemy are dating, simon has some trouble coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toixx_nimpark/pseuds/Toixx_nimpark
Summary: Life after the War was not easy, and Simon was trying his best. But some days, he woke up in a frozen daze. This is a small snippet of one of those days.





	When Simon Snow Has His Bad Days

**PENELOPE:**

 

I knew the moment I walked out of my room, and into the kitchen, that something was wrong. I guess I should’ve known before, from the lack of smell. 

 

Usually Simon is already out of his room and cooking a meal before work. A habit from his younger years at Watford. He was taking cooking classes for the past five months, learning how to do it the Normal way. So that usually meant Baz and I were his test subjects. 

 

But today, after I dressed in my work clothes of a blouse and formal skirt and gotten my satchel, I walked into the living room-kitchen joined rooms. 

 

When I don’t see him standing in the kitchen, cooking eggs and bacon on the stove, I frown and sigh, “Oh, Simon.”

 

I walk briskly through the hall of our small, two bedroom flat. One bathroom for the both of us, and I got the room with the walk-in closet. Simon didn’t have enough clothes to mind much about that. 

 

We still live together, that’s still happening. Some weekends when I get the days off, I fly over to America and spend some time with Micah, but I wouldn’t permanently move over to live with him yet. 

 

Simon and Baz aren’t at that point where they’d live with each other either. When I first asked him about it, Simon told me, “I’ve lived with him for eight years, Penny, I think some space would do us both nicely.” 

 

When I reach his room, just across from my own, I knock gently. “Si?” I ask, quietly. No answer. I grab the door handle and open it slowly, giving him time to jump out and curse about being late. 

 

But that didn’t happen. He was laying in the completely dark, his red plaid covers pulled up to his chin. I could see the gleam of shine in his eyes, so I knew they were open. And by the bulky shapes underneath the duvet, his wings were wrapped tightly around him. 

 

“Simon,” I whispered. Again, no answer. I recognized immediately what was happening which, in retrospect, I should’ve guessed earlier. 

 

He still has days where he’s in an almost catatonic state. It’s like he’s still back there, watching himself kill the Mage, watching himself nearly kill Baz. It’s like both of those moments come rising to the surface and trap him. Like some cast a  **bound to hands and feet** on him. 

 

I walk closer to him and put my hand against his forehead, feeling for his temperature. Sometimes these episodes can be triggered by a fever or stomach flu. Simon hates being bed bound while he’s sick, he’s always hated it even when he was young. Something about the immobility makes him super anxious. It brings back memories from when my family took him in after he had a row with Baz and flew over, where he wasn’t able to do anything. 

 

“Simon, I’m gonna text Baz about this. He’ll come over soon and take care of you, yeah?” I say, kissing his forehead. 

 

He doesn’t say anything, but I feel his face tighten when I mention his boyfriend’s name. I grab his phone from his bedside table and unlock it. Simon’s never told me his password, but it’s not like it’s difficult to guess. He always tries changing it but it just never works again. 

 

I shoot Baz a quick text saying, “Hey. Penny here. Simon is having a rough day. Come over and make him feel better?” 

 

Almost immediately I got a response: “Are scones needed?” 

 

“Sour cherry. Thanks.” 

 

“Always.” 

 

I put down Simon’s phone and sit next to him. If Baz responded, then that must mean he was already dressed and ready. On Tuesdays he didn’t have his first class until late in the afternoon, so he could spend the morning with Simon. 

 

On days like these, it’s like all Simon can properly recognize is Baz. It was like that the weeks after the Mage’s death, with Simon clinging to Baz like a koala to a branch. I never really felt bad about him not recognizing me, and I still don’t. According to his therapist in America, he does this because he associates Baz with an entirely different type of aggression. When the Humdrum counted, Baz would never talk about it, really. While Simon only had bad memories with me when the Humdrum was involved. Baz was the only thing that could ground him and take him out of those memories. 

 

I have a good forty five minutes to wait for Baz to arrive, seeing as I didn’t stop and eat with Simon. Before I get to work I’ll probably get a coffee and doughnut from the nearby coffee shop. The news company I work for isn’t typically against bringing outside food into the building, but it doesn’t mean they’re totally cool with it. 

 

About twenty minutes later, I hear the door unlock and creak open. Baz got his own copy of the house key the day we did, seeing as he was almost always here. When he wasn’t at his dorm room at university, or at his classes, or at his internship, then he was here. Sometimes he’ll have dinner with his family, and bring Simon along with him. 

 

Baz shows up in Simon’s doorway, a bag from the bakery in his hands. He’s wearing jeans, with fashionable tears where the knees are. He has a white shirt with a black coat and a deep purple scarf wrapped around his neck. He has this look in his eye, like he’s sad and determined and so in love. It’s weird to see after so many years of antagonism. (Or at least that’s what  _ I  _ thought it was.)

 

“Bunce,” he says and nods to me. I nod back. 

 

“Thank you for coming over, Baz. I really need to get to work, and I appreciate you coming over so early.” I always talked to him on days like these, even though I know he wouldn’t miss comforting his boyfriend for the world. Even if they still act like they’re at each other’s throats on the outside. I’ve caught them cuddling and whispering to each other too many times to believe that they hated each other. 

 

“I’ve got the scones. Is he awake?” 

 

I look over at him. His eyes are open, but unfocused and his blue irises seem more dull, like cement. “I think so. Just really out it.” 

 

Baz puts the bag of warm scones on Simon’s dresser. I sit up and we pass as he goes to take my spot next to the man. He puts a pale hand on Simon’s tan skin, pressing it into his cheek and staring at him fondly. He says something so quiet I can’t hear a thing. It makes me smile how Simon leans into the touch slightly. 

 

I clear my throat, and Baz looks over at me. “I’m gonna go head out now. I’ll be back soon, probably some time around four if my boss doesn’t make me work overtime.” I stare at Simon. “I'll be home, love. Wait for me with Baz.” 

 

I grab my satchel and head out. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I unlock it to see that Agatha’s texted me. I blink in surprise. She usually never texts me first. A pleasant surprise, to say the least. 

 

“Penny, I’m thinking of coming over. Seeing how you all are doing. Would that be something you’d be interested in?” 

 

“Yes, of course!” I text back quickly. Then I think. Would Simon be alright with that? Oh, Merlin and Morgana, Agatha still doesn’t know that Simon and Baz are in a relationship. Would she try to get together with either of them. Christ, what a strange ending this love triangle received. 

 

Well, it’s too late now. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Agatha, and I would like to see her even if the boys don’t want to. Tomorrow, if Simon is feeling up for it, we can have a long, boring talk about their relationship and how to bring it up. I don’t know how, but some part of me tells me that Baz won’t really care if Agatha’s here and may even get more protective towards Simon. 

 

It was always such a strange situation. Even now, Simon’s awkward when he tries talking to Agatha on Skype. Every Friday night I’ll use my laptop with the purple case and dog stickers on it to ring her up, and only a third of the time I do so Simon comes in to say hello. And half of those times, it’s only because he needed to get something from my room and I asked him to come over and say hi before he could leave. 

 

I walked out of the apartment, locking it behind me. I take a deep breath. They should be alright. Simon has Baz watching over him, and they’ll probably eat scones and watch a nice sappy movie. Because, believe it or not, Baz was a lot more sappy than both Simon and I took him for. While Simon just seemed a lot more awkward and uncomfortable when he had to set up dates or romantic dinners. 

 

_ Now _ , I think.  _ I’ve gotta get going now if I want to be able to eat before I get to work _ . I turn heel and head out. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**BAZ:**

 

I don’t live with Snow and Bunce, not technically. They have their own flat, a few miles from the university I go to school at. Snow takes classes, but he’s not enrolled. He told me he wanted to save up some money, get some Normal experience. 

 

Makes sense. I might be doing the same if I didn’t think my family would never let it go if they knew I was living as a Normal. Not that they had anything malicious against them; we all loved Vera as if she was blood related to us. But it would be utterly ridiculous for  _ me _ specifically to be learning the Normal way. 

 

I do live in the dorms at my university, with a roommate of my own. He’s a normal named Phillip; he has a broad chest and short black hair and meaty hands. Personally, not my type, even if I wasn’t dating the man of my dreams. 

 

Phillip got over the gay thing pretty quickly. On my first day I came clean to him. 

 

We were unpacking our suitcases, our backs to each other, when I said into the silence, “I have a boyfriend, you know.”

 

He didn’t say anything at first. Then said, “Alright. I have a girlfriend. Why did you need to tell me that?” 

 

I turned around, putting my hand on my hip and looking at him. I purposely let a pause stand before I spoke again. “Well I thought if I had just said ‘I’m gay’ you’d worry that I’ll hit on you. Wanted to make it clear that I’m already quite homosexual for another man.”

 

And Crowley, do I love saying that I’m dating Simon fucking Snow. When we first started dating, properly, after the War, I kept looking at myself in the mirror and saying, “I’m dating Simon Snow. Oh, Snow? Yeah, I’m his boyfriend. I’m in love with Simon Snow, and it’s not hopeless.” Honestly, it was therapeutic after all the stressful incidents. 

 

Phillip had laughed. “Well alright then. Do you wanna order a pizza in tonight?” 

 

And that was that. One potentially-awkward conversation already out of the way and it was only the first day. 

 

This morning, while I was brushing my teeth in our adjoined bathroom, Phillip yelled loud enough for me to hear (anything is loud enough for me to hear; that’s what happens when you’re a vampire), “Basilton! You’re phone is going off!” 

 

I grabbed it from my bed and checked the texts from Simon. Or, as I soon discovered, from Penelope. I had no idea how she knew his password. He swore that he didn’t tell anyone it and he was confused as well when he saw that she could get on it with no worries.

 

My brows furrow and my mouth downturns into a pout when I read the concerning text. We text back and forth a bit, until it becomes clear that today would be a Snow day. 

  
  
  
  


Explaining that my boyfriend with dragon wings and a cartoon devil’s tail was having a slightly depressive episode to Phillip was actually easier than I thought the first time it happened. 

 

I told him that I was not going to be at the dorm today because I was going to be spending the day and night at my boyfriend’s flat. As nice as he is, there was no way I would tell Phillip about Simon Snow’s mental issues. Even if it was my information to tell, I wouldn’t say a word. He didn’t need to know unless it directly affected him, which it didn’t. 

 

There was a bakery near the halfway point of my dorm building and Simon and Penelope’s flat. Bunce always joked that it was Simon’s only chance at doing what he loved, but then she kicked both of our knees when we gave each other suggestive looks. Anyway, I agree with her— Simon would be happy with a job surrounded by scones and sweets and cakes all day. And he’d come visit me or I’d go to his place and he’d smell like bread and freshly baked cookies. 

 

Maybe I could convince him to apply to the bakery. 

 

When I had the steaming scones in hand, I took a cab the rest of the way there. 

 

Bunce and Snow lived on the third floor of the building, and the elevators were almost always out of service. And if they weren’t, then they would squeak and stop precariously. However, and Simon is convinced that I magicked it when nobody was watching, it doesn’t do anything scary for me. Or whenever I’m in it. The elevator runs as smoothly as I’m sure it did on its first day. If they ask, me I deny the whole thing. 

 

When I reach the door of their flat, I take out the key that I got when they first moved in. The landlady (an older woman with skin that looks like it’s tightly pulled over her face and wide eyes as if somebody cast a  **you don’t say** on her) must’ve thought I was a relative or something because she gave it to me and said, “They’re busy people. I would hate for them to leave you locked out, dearie.” Or she just had an extra key and felt weird about keeping it, instead giving it to the man she saw one of her flat owners making out with just a few moments earlier when we thought we were hidden. 

 

I let myself in, slipping out of my nice high top shoes— they were expensive, because I got a large portion of money when I moved out of my parents home and decided to indulge on something stupid— and then I set my backpack down on one of their bar stools by their island counter. I never thought I would need a backpack for university, seeing as I never needed one at Watford, but the workload ended up being too much to hold in my arms and Snow helped me pick one out. 

 

Snow. I narrow my eyes, listening intently. Nothing. There’s no smells of morning, no sounds of the two young adults getting ready, nobody rushing up to greet me. 

 

I keep walking through the flat until I reach Bunce and Snow’s rooms. They’re right across from each other on corners, so if they ever come out at the same time they’d probably hit each other on their way out. Hell’s Spells, it’s probably already happened countless times. 

 

Snow’s door is opened, so all I have to do is stand there, looming, and wait for Bunce to notice. When she does, she brushes off her skirt and stands up. 

 

“Bunce.”

 

She nods and walks towards me, so I take the opportunity to be close to Simon. I sit down next to him and touch his face, being as gentle as I could. “It’s alright, love. I’ve got you, Simon,” I whisper, so softly I doubt he can even hear me. 

 

But he smiles, and it makes my heart clench. Can my heart clench? I believe that it beats, but I can’t be sure. Simon has slept on my chest many times and he’s never mentioned it before. You’d think that after over a decade of being a vampire I’d know more about it. 

 

Bunce speaks, explaining where she’s going for Snow. Then she leaves, but she doesn’t leave the flat just yet. I’m too impatient. I can’t wait, and I open up the covers and crawl under. 

 

I wrap my arms around his waist (quite a challenge considering his wings) and Simon trembles under the pressure. 

 

“It’s all my fault. He’s dead, Baz,” Simon mutters, “I’m a murderer.” 

 

There goes my maybe-undead heart again. I hug him even tighter and press my lips against the moles on the back of his neck. I’m rarely this soft towards him, but on Snow days it’s hard not to pity him. 

 

“You’re no murderer in my book,” I say against his skin, even though I know it won’t count for much. 

 

He turns in a gawky manner until his face is facing mine. Crowley, his eyes looked like a dead fish’s. It’s unnerving. When he became a Normal and lost his magic, his eyes never changed. In all honesty, they were always the most Normal thing about him, average and blue. No discernible interesting thing about them, but they always took my breath away. Today, they don’t glow at all. 

 

His brows furrow, more confused than angry. His wings flare up, making the duvet on top of him poof up and then get pulled back down by gravity. 

 

“I’ve hurt you, Baz! I could’ve killed you that night!” He protests. He’s hot headed at the most frustrating of times, and it takes effort to not roll my eyes. 

 

“But you didn’t,” I say. I kiss his forehead. “You did what was right. You’ll always do what is right. That’s why I love you.” 

 

He snorts a little, but doesn’t smile. “For years you hated me because I was so good hearted.” 

 

“I never hated you.”

 

It actually kind of stung that he thought I hated him, even though that was my intention when I was younger. 

 

Simon’s tail is whipping back and forth across the bed, and I know he’s frustrated. So I lean in close to his neck and kiss him again there, whispering, “I love you.” 

 

The first time we said our “I love you”s, it was at a skating rink. He had just tripped on his tail—  _ again _ — and fell into me until we both smashed to the ice. He was worried that he’d hurt me, so worried, until he saw me laughing. The savior in him will never stop pulsing through his veins, even if magic doesn’t. 

 

He runs his hand through my long hair, looking almost dazed. Then he says it. 

 

“I love you.” 

 

I could never pass up an opportunity like this. Not when he’s right here, with his tawny skin and beauty marks and strong hands tugging gently on my black locks. Because I’ll never stop being weak for him. 

 

“I love you, too.”

I smile at the memory now, and Simon catches it. He looks at me curiously, lips turning up gently. 

 

“What are you laughing about?” He asks. I can’t believe that after all this time he still believes that I’d laugh at anything but him 

 

Knowing Simon Snow wasn’t easy. Dating Simon Snow wasn’t a walk in the park.  _ Loving _ Simon Snow was not the same as breathing. 

 

It was always a challenge. Everything about him was a challenge. He loves to challenge me in every way. And I love him for it. I love him because he’s good, and right. It took weeks for him to convince me that I deserved him, and even longer for me to prove that he deserves me. 

 

We were fucked up, but fixing each other. Together. 

 

I answer his question. “You. Always you.” 

 

Simon reaches up, holding onto my jaw, and pushes his face against mine. He doesn’t let go. Keeps kissing me. Hot, because he has blood rushing through his veins, through his lips. I’m so cold, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m undead or not. Maybe I should ask Bunce when she gets back… 

 

“I love you, Baz,” Simon says against my mouth. I groan in reply and hold him closer, and his dark red dragon wings wrap around his. It’s still a bit getting used to, but I hardly mind right now. 

 

When we finally separate, we’re both panting, and he has tears in his eyes. Such an emotional guy; whether it’s anger, fear, determination, happiness, you name it. I wipe them away with my thumb. 

 

“I choose you, Simon Snow. I’ve always chosen you, and I always will,” I say. Softly. Honestly. Because I could never lie like that to Simon bloody Snow. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was also posted onto Fanfiction.net! I tried to stay in touch with how Rainbow Rowell writes her characters, and I hope I did her justice. I'm also not British, so I apologize if things are spelled differently or if anything is off. Comments are also appreciated!


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